


The Return of Hermione Granger

by sseuregis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sseuregis/pseuds/sseuregis
Summary: Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger sent two letters by owl. After that, she wasn't seen for another five years. But, when she's asked to a party by the Potters and told she will be forcibly dragged back for the party, Hermione decides to return on her own terms. It's time to return to England, but what made Granger leave, anyway?





	1. By Owl

**Author's Note:**

> This story was initially uploaded to a different site during 2013-14 and has now been edited and completed.

Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger sent two letters by owl.

One was directed to the Burrow, addressed to Harry, Ron and Ginny, and the other to Hogwarts, and Minerva McGonagall. She picked up her travelling bag, looked around her emptied childhood home, and disapparated.

She wasn't seen for another five years.

* * *

For all intents and purposes, and by the majority of the wizarding population, Hermione Granger was presumed dead or missing. Six people knew that she wasn't: the Potters, Harry and Ginny; the still-perplexed Ronald Weasley; Headmistress McGonagall, touched to have been informed; and Robert and Jacqui Granger, who had remained in Australia and set up a dental practice.

After the first year, few articles were published discussing her whereabouts, and those usually appeared on her birthday and the day of her disappearance. While Rita Skeeter hypothesised that Death Eaters had captured, tortured and murdered the young woman, other journalists suggested that she was more likely to have run away from the wizarding world to live a relatively normal life. Hermione Granger was not one to lavish in the attention of society, it just wasn't her style.

Luna Lovegood, the first reporter to suggest such a plan, was in fact correct. Astute as always, knowing that Hermione wouldn't want to be followed, she had suggested that the Gryffindor would probably venture to France or Italy, centres for history, rather than somewhere as humdrum as England or Ireland. Hermione Granger was more likely to be hiding in a library in some interesting part of the muggle world, content to read, do research and spend time with family and friends, than facing notoriety as a witch.

That was exactly what Hermione had decided to do.

* * *

Life was simple in Brisbane. Her parents were happy with their house and jobs, meeting neighbours and enjoying the usually mild weather. Hermione was able to work as a librarian in the State Library, while doing healing research at home in her free time. She'd managed to publish several journal articles to the Healing Wizard, an up-and-coming Australian wizarding magazine, under a pseudonym, receiving some acclaim. She wasn't faced with the flashing lightbulbs and questioning looks as she walked around at the shops, no misrepresentation as Harry's girlfriend or being treated as inferior by the prejudiced purebloods.

Hermione was content.

* * *

Ginny had had enough.

It had been five years since she'd seen her best friend. She and Harry were about to have their fourth wedding anniversary (a wedding that Hermione hadn't even attended) and they were having a party. As it so happened, their anniversary fell on New Year's Day, and a large picnic was planned for that afternoon.

Hermione was going to come to this party and Ginny Potter would not take no for an answer.

* * *

Though she was treated to occasional news of wizarding Britain, little European news was published in Australian wizarding newspapers and Hermione was rather glad that she didn't have another constant reminder of her other life. But she did have a constant reminder. One that slept in the room next to hers, one that screamed 'Mummy!' across the library after school, despite every effort to cure him of the habit. One whose appearance was forever a reminder of the events that had given her reason to leave her home and her friends.

Alexander Granger was her treasure and Hermione loved him more than anything. But she was glad that they were free from the stigma she might have received in London. No one in Brisbane would wonder at the father of her child. No one would question whether her fake-husband had truly died in a car accident. They had been able to start anew. Her family was safe and happy in Australia.

* * *

The invitation arrived on the day after Christmas. Hermione and her mother returned from the Boxing Day Sales exhausted, carrying dozens of bags. Alec danced around the pair as they entered the house, dropping bags in their path, and sank into armchairs.

"Mummy! Mummy! You got an owl!"

Alec was enamoured with the animals and his favourite stories all featured an owl or two. But visiting their home was an entirely new story and, despite growing up with owls delivering things every once in a while, Alec was always excited when the mail arrived by owl.

Hermione went to the open window, where a white owl perched. It looked remarkably like Hedwig, she thought absentmindedly as she opened the seal on the letter.

_Dear Hermione...party...not taking no for an answer...hope you had a lovely Christmas... _miss you..._ love Ginny._

She sighed.

It was finally happening.

Although her friends had been supportive of her leaving the country to move in with her parents in Australia, they had not fully understood. Hermione hadn't told them everything. They didn't know she was a mother, they hadn't even known she was seeing someone during the war. But now that they were actively inviting her to things, she knew that if she ignored them, they would eventually travel to Brisbane and drag her back kicking and screaming.

She missed her friends, the world into which she had acclimated so well. She missed Hogwarts and the Weasleys and being around magic all the time. She missed the cold British winters, the greenness that was everywhere (Australia seemed to be distinctly brown, rather than green) and the more reserved behaviour that could be found outside the former colony.

Hermione had wanted to go home from the moment she had disapparated five years previously, but she had stayed strong and she knew her family was better for it. But time had passed, and it was likely that no one would question her son's backstory. It wasn't a question, really. She wanted to go back, even if it might be slightly more difficult there. Alec would be able to go to Hogwarts. She would be able to take him to Diagon Alley to get his books for school, to get his first wand.

Hermione grinned.

_It was time to return to England._


	2. Realising Things

Strangely enough, when faced with the prospect of seeing her friends and revealing her secrets, Hermione wasn't worried. She usually thought everything through, made the occasional pro-con list and read as much as she could on the subject. But returning felt right. Five years previously, she'd made the lists and done the research, and, while all signs pointed to staying, she'd elected to leave.

Now, it was time to return.

Jacqui Granger poked her head in the door of her daughter's room. Her hair had begun to grey at the roots, but its chocolate colour was similar to Hermione's. "Darling, are you sure you don't want us to post you your things? I was just at the post office and they said that they can be shipped over and arrive within the next few weeks."

"It's fine, Mum," Hermione said with a smile, indicating the small handbag into which she was emptying her bookshelf.

"Magic!" The older woman chuckled, walking back down the hallway.

It may have been years since Hermione's Hogwarts letter, but magic was still a novelty in the Granger home. _  
_

* * *

Mother and son floo'd to the Burrow on New Year's Morning with their trunks firmly secured in Hermione's handbag, extended to fit their belongings from Australia. The kitchen was (surprisingly) empty and Hermione made Alec some toast, seating him at the table, before searching the house for Weasleys.

George was sprawled across the sofa, asleep and drooling, while his wife Angelina was curled up in a nearby armchair in a slightly more dignified manner. Both looked older than Hermione remembered, but she'd been able to see the occasional photo and piece of news in the past five years, so they didn't look too different. Empty bottles of Firewhiskey littered the table and floor. _What an evening the Weasleys must have had._ Bill and Fleur's door was shut and Hermione didn't especially want to see anything she oughtn't by going inside. Charlie's door was open, but the room was empty, bed unmade, clothes strewn across the room. She didn't want to know the details of why a red bra was tangled in the ceiling fan.

A commotion on the stairs above caused Hermione to look up.

"I'm a grown man, Mum! I'm allowed to share the bathroom with my girlfriend if I so wish," Charlie protested to his glaring mother. Molly pointed her finger at him.

"Both of you will be downstairs within the next ten minutes and if I ever catch you doing... _that_ in my bathroom again _,_ you will not be returning to this house. I want everyone downstairs befor-"

Molly paused. As she gestured downstairs, she'd turned and caught sight of Hermione a dozen steps below, failing to stifle her laughter.

"Hermione!" She pulled Hermione into a tight hug. _Things never change_ , Hermione grinned, returning the embrace. "How are you? How was your trip back? Where have you been? I'm sure it was wonderful... Come to the kitchen, I'll make a late breakfast."

Charlie scuttled back into the bathroom, glad to escape. The sound of rushing of water and a high-pitched giggle carried through the closing door. _  
_

Molly and Hermione made their way downstairs, making small talk. Ron was coming after lunch, as he had had to work the night before. The arrival of the Potters, including the newest Potter, James, was imminent, and Arthur was tinkering outside in his shed. The family was all going to be here, then. "Along with some new friends," Molly added.

_It was nice to be home._

* * *

What Hermione had failed to mention to Molly was that she had a companion. Upon their arrival in the kitchen, Alec looked up questioningly from _Quidditch Through The Ages_ , one of many copies belonging to the Weasleys. Molly turned to Hermione with a similar look, "Now, who is this?" _  
_

"Mummy?"

"Mummy?!" Ginny gasped, standing in the open door. Harry stood behind her, half-blocked by the one-year-old in his arms, but gaping.

Alec frowned and turned back to his book. Hermione placed her hands on his shoulders, "This is my son Alec."

"You... your... you... _son_?"

"Welcome to the Burrow, Alec," Molly smiled, taking his empty plate and putting it in the sink. "Do you want to have a look around? I can show you if you would like."

Alec smiled shyly in return. The boy looked in askance at his mother, who nodded, and he took Molly's proffered hand. They wandered off and the kitchen was silent, the pair's chattering fading into the distance.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ginny shot Harry a look and he amended, "...tell _us_?"

"It was straight after the war, people would think it was you or Ron. I didn't want that sort of pressure to be put on any of us, least of all Alec. I wanted him to have a nice, normal childhood."

Ginny nodded understandingly. She and Harry had waited a few years for that very reason. Their roles in the war would never be forgotten, but the notoriety had dulled, much as Hermione believed it would. "We're glad you're back."

"So am I. I want to hear all about your lives. Your wedding, James, everything!" Hermione sank into Alec's chair.

Harry went into the other room and woke George and Angelina, placing his son in the care of at least one hungover person. _It was a good way to teach them not to drink so much_ , Hermione chuckled to herself. Ginny sat down beside Hermione and grinned, "So... where should I begin?"

* * *

After discussing the important events of their lives for more than an hour, one topic had still not been broached by Ginny or Harry. Hermione had similarly tried to avoid the topic.

"Hermione," Harry began hesitantly. "Where's Alec's father?"

" _Who's_ Alec's father?" Ginny added more eagerly than her husband.

Hermione grimaced. She knew the question would come up eventually, and she was surprised that it had taken her friends this long to ask, but Hermione wasn't exactly sure how she would respond. There was the blanket answer she'd had for the five years in Australia: her (non-existent) husband, Thomas Smith, had died in a car accident, she'd gone back to her maiden name and was raising Alec with her parents' help. There was the answer she'd prepared to tell the general wizarding world: she'd secretly married the father during the war and, upon his death, decided to protect his son and his identity by moving to Australia. But Harry and Ginny, and Ron, when he arrived, deserved an element of the truth, if not the whole truth.

"Before I left, I was dating someone. We broke up a few days after the Battle of Hogwarts and it wasn't exactly amicable. When I found out I was pregnant a week after that, I didn't want to have to face him all the time. I'd had an inclination that I was pregnant in the last days of our relationship but I wasn't sure and I didn't tell him. Back then, I thought about what I would want for my child. Would I want my child to have a childhood, a life of notoriety? Or would I give them the life they deserve? One of normalcy. Those thoughts already in my head, when I found out, I knew what I wanted to do. That day, I spoke to my parents and told them I was coming to visit. I sent you the letters and left."

Ginny, who had been gasping intermittently throughout Hermione's speech and leaning further and further forward, fell back against her chair. Harry reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hand.

"Thank you for telling us."

Hermione's lips twisted into a ghost of a smile, her eyes shining slightly with unspent tears.

At least they didn't press her on the identity of Alec's father.

Hermione had no idea what she would have said.

* * *

The party passed in a more upbeat tone.

People asked questions, some of which Hermione answered, but they soon moved onto genuine conversation. It wasn't difficult for her to get back into the groove, although the occasional event or relationship mentioned was surprising to her.

"R-Ron... and Pansy?"

"They've been together a few months. You'd think they'd tear each other's throat out, but they're actually really cute," Ginny laughed.

"Oi! A man does not appreciate being called cute!" Harry poked his wife in the side.

"Ron and Pansy, though," Ginny beseeched him.

He laughed, "They are pretty..." Ginny began to grin, "...well suited."

Ginny sighed and her husband wrapped an arm around her waist, "Why don't we go see where the cake is?"

"Cake?" Ginny perked up, dragging Harry toward the kitchen.

Hermione chuckled, sipping at her white wine. Alec was playing with the other magical children and his mother couldn't keep a smile off her face. This was right. It was what was supposed to happen. He would be so happy here. The children were crowded around a crouching man, hidden by their clustered bodies, and even Hermione, across the yard, could clearly hear, "Let _me_ on the broomstick!" "No, let _me_ on!" Alec stood near the outside. Although she'd educated him on the general aspects of the wizarding world, and had demonstrated more than a few spells, Hermione was not a good flyer. Alec had never ridden on a broom, nor had he seen a magical one. Despite not being able to see the man, she could see the broom he was holding up. It was a children's one, and it was extremely safe... she'd researched it a while ago, in case Alec ever asked to try. If Alec wasn't chosen, she ought to ask Harry if he'd take her son up one day soon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a yell, "Mummy! Mummy! I'm going to fly on a broom!"

Alec had run halfway across the yard, made his pronouncement, and was already sprinting back, a huge grin on his face. _Her little boy was growing up_ , Hermione thought, both happy and miserable at the thought.

The man holding the broom stood and turned to face Alec, who was still a good distance away. Instead, his eyes met Hermione's and widened perceptibly. She gasped in recognition. He was tall, his build slightly thicker than when she last saw him and his hair the same pale shade of blond. His lips weren't twisted into his former smirk, but an easy smile, which fell when their eyes met. He looked older, and more attractive, than the last time she'd seen him. _The past five years have treated him well_ , Hermione thought, an unwelcome feeling settling in her stomach. It was then that she realised something else.

_Draco Malfoy was about to give her son a flying lesson._


	3. Never

Hermione was at war with herself. She was already rising, moving toward Draco and Alec, ready to stop whatever was about to take place. But she was also hesitant. Alec would likely treasure his first ride on a broom if she didn't intervene and drag him away. He might actually excel at the one thing his mother was incapable of doing. Similarly, facing Draco Malfoy was not something she'd thought she would have to do that day and she didn't exactly want to talk to him.

So, fighting her need to rise up and confront the man, she allowed Draco Malfoy to gently lift Alec onto the children's broom and teach the boy how to fly.

* * *

Although he'd only risen a few feet off the ground during actual flight, when Alec fell off the broom in the process of dismount, he started crying.

Hermione had never overtly spoilt her son, but whenever he injured himself, she automatically ran to him, wanting to wrap him in her arms and never let him go. She knew that soon Alec wouldn't want her to do so, but at the moment he wasn't adverse to her mothering and Hermione revelled in it. He was, after all, her little baby.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright. Just a little graze on your hands," Hermione lifted the little hands to show him. "We'll go inside and put on a sticking plaster."

Although she was able to perform magic to heal Alec's cuts, she didn't like doing it. There were probably no bad effects to the practice, but this was one thing Hermione liked doing the muggle way. It taught him resilience and that not everything could be fixed by magic. She stood and brushed off her grassy jeans before grasping Alec's hand.

"Hermione," a voice behind her said. "It's been a while."

In her initial panic, then reassurance of Alec, Hermione had, oddly enough, forgotten about Draco Malfoy. She turned to face him. He looked older, but he was the same Dra-Malfoy that she'd known years ago.

"Er... it has," Hermione mumbled. "How've you been?"

"Good. Work keeps me busy," he replied, his eyes searching hers. "And you?"

"Mmm, yes, busy. Just moved back from Australia."

"I heard. Your son was regaling tales of it to me earlier, " Malfoy said with a smile to the boy who still clutched her hand as if it was a lifeboat.

Hermione shot Alec an indecipherable look, "Has he? That's nice."

"Why'd you move?"

"Change of scenery, you know," she shrugged, her heart palpitating in her chest.

"Where's your husband?"

"My..."

"Alec's father?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere."

"You'll have to introduce me."

She hesitated before responding, "I'm quite sure you've already met."

"Have we?"

"Yes."

He didn't move, didn't say a word.

"Sorry, but we have to go. I need to get Alec a sticking plaster," Hermione babbled, already walking away.

Draco's head snapped in her direction. His tone was quiet, "Alec?"

She tossed her words over her shoulder, not even turning around, "Bye!"

* * *

Five Years and Seven Months Ago

_"If I ever have a child, I'm doing away with the weird naming in my family."_

_He stood in Potter's house at Grimmauld Place, looking at the Black family tapestry. In the past year, Draco Malfoy had broken away from his family, his old practices, his old beliefs, and joined the Order. He'd realised that the ways of his and other families weren't only wrong in some places, but antiquated. Like the naming. He didn't want his children made fun of because they were named Walburga or Cygnus, no matter how historical or astrological it was. "What about you?"_

_Hermione stepped back from where she was studying the burnt parts of the tapestry, "What about me?"_

_"What would you name our children?"_

_"_ Our _children? Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?"_

_Draco's face was serious, "Not too far. I'd like to get married someday in the near future."_

_Hermione's eyes flicked from the eaten edges of the tapestry to Draco's eyes. "Really?"_

_"Really."_

_Hermione's unspoken "To_ _me?" reverberated into an awkward silence._

_"I've been thinking that, once the war comes to an end, I might marry my girlfriend...if she'll have me." He pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead and she smiled. Draco laughed, "Seriously, though, what would you name them?"_

_She hesitated, thinking, "Something strong. I'd want my child to have a strong name."_

_"I agree. I like Alexander, for a boy. That's strong, and not too odd," he offered. "I don't know about a girl. Definitely not Pansy or Millicent, though."_

_Hermione laughed, "No, neither of those. You wouldn't like to name your daughter after your mother?"_

_"No. Not her first name. I love my mother, but I don't want to saddle a child with the name Narcissa. Or Narcissus."_

_"Iris."_

_"What?"_

_"I like the name Iris."_

_"Alexander and Iris Malfoy, then."_

_Hermione offered him a small smile, "I guess."_

_Draco quickly checked the hall, before taking her hand and pulling her out of the room and into his own, two doors down, "They'll have my Quidditch skills and your brains."_

_He pressed Hermione against the door, effectively shutting it. His lips ghosted across hers, dropping to her neck._

_"They'll have your hair and my eyes."_

_"They'll be in Gryffindor," Draco added, his breath now against her lips. "Or Ravenclaw."_

_"They'll be perfect," Hermione whispered, pulling her boyfriend against her._

_He lowered his lips to hers, hesitating mere inches away, "Alexander and Iris Malfoy, our children."_

_Their lips met._

* * *

"What's got your boxers in a bunch?"

Ron sank into the lawn chair beside Draco's and handed him a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he mumbled, remembering that night, years ago. It was a coincidence. That's all it was.

Ron sat silently beside his friend, leaving him to woolgather, and gazed around the yard. Everyone was there. Well, almost everyone, Ron thought sadly. Not everyone had survived the war, and not everyone was in the country.

As if sensing Weasley's thoughts, Draco offered a weak explanation, "Granger has a kid."

"Hermione's here?" Ron jumped up, looking around excitedly.

"Inside, with her son."

Ron paused, "Her son?"

"Apparently."

"Who's the father?"

"No idea, but I know him, according to Granger," Draco replied. His expression morphed into one of horror. "It's not you or Potter, is it?"

Ron gaped, aghast, "No! Hermione and I weren't ever together. Besides, I wouldn't be this surprised if the kid was mine, would I? And Harry would never cheat on Ginny."

"I suppose not," Draco conceded. "Go and see her. I can see you're itching to go."

Ron smiled, thanking his mate, and walked in the direction of the house.

* * *

Hermione's reunion with Ron was less shocking than hers with Harry and Ginny. She was in the kitchen talking with Molly, Ginny and Alec, although she and her son were mostly just watching Ginny beg Molly to bring out the cake. Harry had long given up on his wife and had joined George outside.

"Please, Mum. If we let everyone have cake now, then I won't have to steal a piece before it's handed out."

"You are a grown woman!" Molly exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

"So? I can still want cake!"

Alec giggled as Hermione subtly scooped some icing onto a spoon and passed it to her son.

"What are you two laughing about?" Mother and daughter demanded with the same glare. Alec quickly hid the spoon.

Hermione frowned, "Laughing? I didn't hear any laughing…"

Just as Ginny opened her mouth to argue, the door leading outside burst open and Ron appeared, grinning wildly.

"'MIONE!"

Hermione laughed as she was picked up from the kitchen counter where she sat with Alec, spun around, and deposited on the floor.

"Hello, Ron!"

He smiled, slightly less excitedly this time, and enveloped her in another hug.

"You are going to have to let go of me eventually, otherwise Pansy might get jealous," Hermione joked, plopping herself back on the bench-top. Alec sighed, licking icing off the cooking spoon.

Ron turned to the little, brown-haired boy, "I've heard about you from one of my friends. I'm Ron, and you must be Alec!"

Alec nodded shyly, "Hi."

Ron patted him awkwardly on the head and stepped back, "I'd better go find Pansy. Don't want to leave her alone with Malfoy… who knows who'd survive _that_."

Hermione hadn't forgotten her encounter with Draco Malfoy, but she'd been trying as best she could.

She didn't want to have to deal with him, considering their past. The last time she'd seen him, Hermione had promised herself " _never again_ ". Never again would she let him get to her, never again would she let a man have such an effect on her. Never again would she listen to someone when they promised that the gossip wasn't true. Never again would she let her heart get broken by the person she loved and trusted most in the world.

* * *

The Day After The Battle of Hogwarts

" _I love you, you know that, right?"_

_They lay on the couch at Hermione's parents' house together, not watching the movie that played on the television._

_Hermione turned her head to face him and smiled, "Of course. I love you, too."_

__"I had lunch with Mother today,"_ Draco offered her a weak smile. "She informed me that she spoke to the Greengrasses this morning. She believes Astoria is still willing to marry me. They're already planning a wedding later in the year."_

_Hermione sat up sharply._

" _You're marrying Astoria?" She snapped._

_Draco held up his hands beseechingly, "No! No! Mother wants me to but I'm not going to! I'm going to marry you, remember."_

" _No, Draco. You just told me that Astoria is still willing to marry you. Why would she_ still _be_ willing _if she weren't offered marriage at some point?"_

_He grimaced, eyes hardening, "It was a long time ago. Before the war, before us. It's not happening. I won't let it happen."_

" _So you are engaged. What was_ this _, then? Just some fun? Sowing some seeds before marriage? Thanks, Draco, thanks a lot."_

" _No!" He cried, "I'm telling you that I love you and I am going to marry you_. _I never loved Astoria, it was just convenient. I'm going to visit her family tomorrow, and we'll announce_ our _engagement instead."_

" _Our engagement? We're not engaged," Hermione said, tears running down her cheeks. "You never asked me."_

" _Hermione, will-"_

 _Hermione groaned,_ " _Merlin, Draco, you don't get it. Just... just... floo me tomorrow afternoon, once you're done with the Greengrasses. If I don't talk to you by 5, I'll assume you're going through with it."_

" _Hermione, please," Draco choked out._

" _I hope I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going upstairs. You know your way out."_

_It took several minutes for Draco to pull himself together and leave. In the morning, he would tell the Greengrasses exactly where they could shove the marriage. He wasn't marrying Astoria. He would marry Hermione, whether it was this year or in ten. He wasn't going to lose her. Never._


	4. Again

It was well past Alec's bedtime by the time mother and son reached the Granger home. It was exactly how Hermione remembered it. A slim, detached house with two floors and an attic, pale blue curtains adorning the windows. The formerly tame garden was unruly and bordering on sinister in the darkness, but it was home. Unlocking the door with difficulty, as a heavy Alec was perched on one hip snuggling into her shoulder, she almost tripped over the small mound of letters inside the door.

Although she'd enlisted her muggle neighbours to collect any remaining letters from the letterbox and forward them, Hermione had forgotten that she might receive mail by owl. There looked to be, in the dimly lit hall, at least a hundred small letters. Walking into the house and flipping on lights, the formerly dark home grew more and more familiar as the light bulbs warmed, glowing brighter.

Gingerly placing Alec on the bed in her childhood room, across from the living room, Hermione set out to investigate how the house had fared in five years. She'd placed up wards so no unwelcome visitors would rob the place, but weather was a whole other issue. The house wasn't too old, but water damage and resulting mould would be an annoyance with which Hermione did not want to deal.

The house was silent but for Alec's muffled sleeping noises (the occasional groan and sigh) as Hermione climbed the stairs. After the war, and before she left for Australia, she had slept in the spare room on the first floor. It was more practical, after all, as it had a queen-sized bed, and Dr—Malfoy had spent almost every night with her there until… until a week before she left.

Her parents' room looked the same, empty dresser with one draw stuck slightly open, as it had been for the last fifteen years. On the white wrought-iron bed lay a dusty mattress. The small window was shrouded in heavy lace curtains. The room looked wholly impersonal, just like it ought if it hadn't been occupied in five years.

Whereas the door to her parents' room had been shut, the spare room's door was ajar. Taking out her wand, although doubting that the room would have an occupant, Hermione pushed it open completely, flipped on the light, and gasped.

It was an absolute mess. The cheap rocking chair that Draco had bought Hermione to read in resembled more a pile of firewood than a seat. A vase, once containing flowers, had been smashed; there was a faint water stain on the off-white wall, and dead flowers and pieces of ceramic littered the grey carpet. What broke her heart most was the one flower that did not lie in tatters on the floor. Although it was dead and brown, Hermione knew exactly what colour the rose had once been. A single white rose had been placed on the bed.

As memories resurfaced, Hermione sank to the ground just inside the door and cried for the first time in years.

* * *

Within an hour, Hermione had cleaned up the mess with her wand, switched out the light and climbed into bed, drifting into a deep sleep.

In the morning, she felt refreshed. She felt better. That was all in the past. First things first, she was going to get a new job. Then, Hermione was going to earn enough money that she could buy a house for Alec and herself. They would go to the Burrow on Sundays for lunch, and have holidays in Australia with the Grangers. Alec would soon go to primary school, and eventually on to Hogwarts.

Shutting the door to the spare room and, effectively, her memories of it, Hermione made her way downstairs. Trying to locate the small fridge in her handbag was difficult, as things had shifted slightly in the last day. The extension charm was wearing off and the bag was slightly more crowded that it had been the morning before. Finally locating the fridge next to her collection of muggle novels, she rummaged carefully, pulling out a carton of eggs, some milk, butter, bread, and bacon. It took a little longer to locate knives, forks, plates and a fry-pan, but, thirty minutes later, Alec emerged from his room, sniffing the air.

"What's for breakfast?" He asked, adding, hopefully, "Bacon?"

Hermione laughed, setting two full plates on the table, " _And_ eggs."

The pair ate in relative silence, the only noises coming from outside and the clinking of their knives and forks on the china plates.

* * *

Several hours later, Alec and Hermione were both settled in, their possessions strewn comfortably across the house. Instead of returning to the spare room, Hermione had cleaned up her parents' old, dusty one with industrial strength cleaning charms. Putting on her own sheets and pillows from her bag, Hermione was much more comfortable here than in the other room. Similarly, Alec had elected to move into the attic rather than Hermione's girly childhood room. There was a single bed up there, in case relatives came to stay when Hermione was a child.

Ginny knocked on the door at half-twelve and asked the pair to lunch with her and James. Hungry and exhausted, they readily agreed, and the quartet set out to Diagon Alley.

* * *

The last time Hermione had been to Diagon Alley was in the summer after her sixth year at Hogwarts. The street was half-destroyed; shops gutted and the thoroughfare empty of people. Now, it was bright, restored and bustling, despite the wintry chill in the air.

Ginny mumbled something to Hermione about a new toy for James and a quick stop into the Quidditch shop. Alec begged to go with them and, before Hermione knew it, she was standing alone in the street, having been promised that they would meet her at Flourish and Blotts in twenty-five minutes.

Hermione grinned. _Twenty-five minutes_ of solo book shopping.

Her bliss lasted nineteen. Nineteen minutes after she entered the shop, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"Twice in two days, Granger, that's a rarity. And here I thought I wouldn't see you for another five years."

Malfoy's tone was more biting than it had been the day before and, when she turned around, Hermione could swear that his eyes were snarling at her.

"I could say the same to you, Malfoy. Although I didn't think it, I hoped that I wouldn't see you for another five years," Hermione snapped. Putting on a polite smile, as if unfazed by his presence, she added, "Did you enjoy the party?"

He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. When he smirked, Hermione knew he'd settled on lying. Draco had once told her the truth about his sneers and smirks. A sneer was when he felt powerless, overcompensating, pushing others down to make himself feel better. A smirk, however, was when he was unsure of himself, of how he felt, of what he was doing. A smirk said a lot about Draco. He had no idea how to act, so he tried to appear confident. The smirk twitched, "Very much. Although I was disappointed not to meet your significant other."

"I haven't got a significant other, as I believe I told you yesterday."

"No, you said you didn't have a husband."

"Well, I don't have one of either," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. _We're not engaged. You never asked me._ She wanted to scream at him. Something. But she said nothing else.

"Alec is a nice name," Draco smirked. "Short for Alexander?"

"Yes," she retorted. Absentmindedly running a hand over the books beside her, Hermione grimaced slightly, "I forgot to ask, how's your wife?"

He stepped back, stunned, "My wife?"

"Yes, your wife."

"I'm not married."

Hermione blinked several times, digesting the information. As they stared at each other uncomprehendingly, Ginny raced up with the two children and several bags in tow, apologising profusely.

"I know! I'm late!" She stopped and checked her watch, "Actually, I'm early. How did _that_ happen?"

Hermione looked to her friend helplessly.

"What's wrong? I'm not late," Ginny said, finally noticing Draco and nodding in greeting. "Did you enjoy yourself yesterday? I'm sorry you were stuck with the children for a while, but it looked like everyone was having fun. If only Astoria could have come with you, then you might have been able to talk more with the adults. I hope she can come to our next party. Alec just told me that his birthday is in a few weeks, and I'm sure Mum will want to throw a big party. Five years old!"

She grinned at Alec, who was looking up at Draco in awe. Clearly he'd enjoyed his first flying lesson. Hermione, however, looked stricken and pale. Malfoy wasn't looking at Alec or Ginny, but to the wavering woman in front of him. He reached out a hand, before realising what he was doing, and dropped it back to his side. Instead, he asked, "Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione nodded, grabbed Ginny's arm and left the shop along with the two children.

Draco Malfoy was left standing alone, and upset, for the second time in two days.

* * *

Ginny decided that they would forgo a public lunch and instead the group apparated to an alley near the closest muggle supermarket to the Granger home. An hour later, lunch eaten, Ginny and Hermione sat at the kitchen table as Alec and James played in the living room.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" Ginny asked, broaching the subject. Hermione hadn't said a word, scaring Ginny and Alec, until they'd reached the Granger home after shopping.

"I... don't exactly get along with Malfoy," Hermione said. "We came to be very good friends during the last months of the war and then some things happened, and we no longer get along very well."

Ginny nodded. They'd all grown closer to Draco at that time, having spent so much time together. However, Harry and Ron were still quite good friends with the man, as Hermione clearly was not. _If they were, in fact,_ _friends._

"Hermione, I'm only going to ask this once, and if you say no, or don't want to respond, that's fine, but... is Draco Alec's father?"

She jerked her head once, in assent, before burying her head in her hands.

"What... what happened between you?" Ginny demanded, serious but hesitant to hurt her friend.

"We dated. For almost a year," Hermione mumbled. 

Her friend frowned. _A year?_ "No, I mean, why did it end?"

* * *

Two Days After The Battle of Hogwarts

_By 1 o'clock in the afternoon, Hermione had cleaned the house, re-read Pygmalion, alphabetised her books and started making a cake. She'd tried to keep herself busy, although she continually found herself looking out the window, hoping to see Draco materialise in front of her gate. But by 1, she'd finished her chores, finished her mindless tasks, and the orange and poppyseed cake was in the oven. She was actively waiting, sitting, not reading_ A Detailed History of The Giant Rights Movement, _however much she wished she could._

_By 2 o'clock, the cake was cold enough to ice, and Hermione took her time doing it. She added some shavings of orange rind, and was pleased with the overall appearance. More often than not, her cakes stuck to the pan, or the icing dripped off, but this one was perfect. She couldn't wait to show Draco._

_He still hadn't arrived. Hermione had left a window open, as it was mild outside and if Draco sent her an owl, it wouldn't crash into something like Ron's always did. But half an hour later, nothing had arrived. There was no gorgeous man complimenting her cake-baking skills, kissing the icing off her nose. There was no Draco wrapping her in his arms and telling her that he loved her and it was all over with Astoria, even if it had been nothing, as he said it was._

_But by 3 o'clock, Hermione was distressed. What if something had happened to him? What if he'd been hexed, or injured, or imprisoned by the Greengrasses? No, they were manipulative, but they weren't stupid. He was fine. He was coming. Maybe he was delayed by something... his mother might have pressed him to take her for afternoon tea, or he may have run into Harry and Ron._

_As the clock ticked closer and closer to 5, however, Hermione was close to giving up hope. It wasn't as if she was the kind of woman to sit around and wait for a man anyway! But she loved him and, until the day before, had trusted him completely. He would come. He would._

_Surprisingly, the night passed in a blur for Hermione. She sat in an armchair for hours, almost in a trance, before dozing off. She was awoken the next morning by the arrival of the Daily Prophet._

_The front page read: 'Malfoy and Greengrass to Marry!'_ _Accompanying the article was a large, moving image of Draco-_ her Draco _-kissing Astoria passionately. Hermione, unbelieving, began to skim the short paragraph, penned not by the forever-incorrect Rita Skeeter, but by Padma Patil._

* * *

In a surprising move, Draco Malfoy, 17, and Astoria Greengrass, 16, last night announced their engagement. In the wake of the war, and the youngest Malfoy's position in the Order, the general wizarding population believed he would steer clear of an old pureblood family when choosing a wife. However, last night, at a large party thrown by Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, the pair shone with happiness. The loving looks and numerous kisses shared by the couple last night demonstrate one thing: this is clearly a love match. Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_Only then, looking again at the embracing couple on the front page of the paper, did Hermione give up hope that he would still come._


	5. Mistakes

Three Days After The Battle Of Hogwarts

_The house was dark when Draco apparated outside Hermione's gate. He'd done it numerous times in the past, but this time he was more than slightly tipsy, having had a few strong drinks at a pub. Draco had needed the drinks after he saw the paper that morning. It was true, it was all true, but he didn't need a reminder._

_When he'd arrived at Greengrass House the morning before, the house elf answering the door announced that no one was home. The hall where he stood, being informed of this fact, was bustling with house elves, cleaning. House elves roaming the house clearly indicated that no Greengrass was home, the family would never have allowed a house elf to complete tasks in their presence. They were terrible to the elves. Draco spent a few hours scouring their other nearby homes, but found no indication of their whereabouts. It was in a fit of exasperation that he apparated to Malfoy Manor, where his mother was, coincidentally, having lunch with the family of his intended._

_Invited by his mother to take a seat and join them, he hadn't gotten a word in edgewise, try as he might. After drinking some of the tea offered by Astoria, however, his worries had drifted to the back of his mind. Draco found himself agreeing to a party, an announcement, a wedding. He was smiling at Astoria, his lovely fiancée, he was kissing her at the behest of his mother. But something felt wrong, felt off. There was a tiny part of him that didn't want to do these things... but why?_

* * *

_Awakening in the morning, Draco was aghast at his actions. What in Merlin's name had been going through his mind? Why hadn't he shouted to everyone that he wasn't marrying Astoria, that he wanted to marry Hermione, that... Astoria had drugged him?_

_"A light acquiescence potion," she told him at breakfast in his mother's house. "You_ _seemed agitated."_

_The whole Greengrass family was now in residence, it appeared, because several minutes later, Daphne arrived looking worse for wear. He almost asked where Hermione was, but he knew. He knew where she was. She was home. She wasn't there. He'd never fixed things, he'd never gone to tell her it was all okay._

_He'd ruined everything._

_He was an idiot._

_If Hermione never forgave him, he would deserve it._

_The newspaper, added to this distress, did not create a pleasant situation in the Manor. Draco was pissed. The Greengrasses, surprised by his animosity toward their daughter and the marriage union, sat agape. Astoria fumed. Narcissa frowned, concerned. And Daphne sat with her head in her hands, the noise of the room too loud for her hangover._

_So, after more than a few drinks, Draco arrived at the Granger house. But, unlike his usual visits, the gate wouldn't open. No spell, no physical exertion would open the gate._

_She'd locked him out._

_Out of her garden._

_Out of her house._

_Out of her heart._

* * *

_He returned two days later, a bouquet of white roses in his hand. This time, the gate was open, a more welcoming sign. Perhaps she'd forgiven him. No, that was unlikely. Why in Merlin's name would she forgive him? The blue curtain in the living room twitched as he walked up the short path. She was home, at least._

_The door swung open before he reached it. Hermione was standing there, more beautiful than ever. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a red t-shirt and denim shorts._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_Draco grimaced, "I'm here to apologise. I meant to call it off, I meant to come and tell you, but I... I wasn't myself and I agreed to things I wouldn't have, under normal circumstances."_

_"You were drunk," Hermione stated, sighing._

_"No, I was drugged."_

_Her head shot up, a worried look plastered across her face, "Drugged?"_

_Draco nodded, "Acquiescence potion."_

_This was followed by a scoff._

_"That's barely drugging. It just makes you slightly more amenable to your less conscious thoughts. You were obviously considering marrying Astoria somewhere in your mind," she replied sadly._

_"I want to marry you!"_

_"I want to be happy, Draco. This..." Hermione gestured in the air between them, "...isn't working so well. It's not making either of us very happy. Maybe marrying each other in this_ mess _would worsen things. We'd be less happy, if that were even possible. It's not working, as you clearly showed me by your actions last night._ "

_Draco wanted to deny it. But he could see the dark rings under her eyes, ones that he knew he also sported. Her colour was off, more grey than pink. "I love you. I want to try to fix things between us."_

_"You know I love you, but you're engaged to Astoria. We both know you must, at some point, have been seriously considering marrying her. If you love me, or if you love her, we should just forget this before things get worse and hearts are broken," she began to shut the door._

_"No!"_

_"Goodbye, Draco."_

_He stood on the step, his face blank, for several minutes, before falling to sit on it. She couldn't just shut the door. She couldn't just walk away from him. It was a small mistake, he wanted to fix things. It wasn't like he was cheating._

_But he_ was _._

_He was cheating. He'd been cheating on his relationship with Hermione by forgetting about and keeping secret his engagement to Astoria, and he was cheating on Astoria, who he didn't particularly care about, by loving Hermione._

_It wasn't a small mistake. It was a big one._

_He'd majorly fucked up._

_But, Draco thought as he sat, left alone by the only woman he'd ever loved, he would do his best to prove that he was sincere in his apology, in his promises._ _Whether it took a day, a week, a month or a year, he would show Hermione Granger that he loved her and that one day they would be together._

* * *

Present Day

By the next morning, Hermione was more calm about the situation. _So what if he was dating Astoria_ , as Ginny had later informed her. _It had been years since her failed attempt at a relationship with Malfoy. So what if Astoria was the reason they had broken up._ _She was happy with her life now. She was over him. She had a beautiful child, whose parentage she chose to ignore most of the time, and she was happy with her life._

 _It was the surprise that had thrown her off_ , she realised. The fact that the tightly woven lies about Alec's parentage were coming undone because she couldn't keep her mouth shut about a relationship she was totally over.

She'd seen him twice. They'd spoken. It had been years since she'd truly thought about Draco Malfoy. She was over him. She wasn't distraught over their relationship. But seeing and hearing about the little things, his new relationship with Astoria, his teaching Alec how to fly, his cold treatment of her. She'd needed time to acclimate to seeing him again, to hearing about his life.

Draco was now dating the reason they'd broken up and Hermione realised she was actually fine with it... after she'd gotten used to the idea. She had no reason to worry about Draco Malfoy, except for the tiny issue that he was the secret father of her son and one day soon, Hermione knew he was going to figure it out.

* * *

Draco was staring at his plate to avoid the glaring looks Ginny shot at him.

He and Astoria had barely sat down to lunch with Ginny and Harry, when the bald glaring had begun. Ginny was furious, with Hermione's revelation about her past with Draco still extremely fresh in mind, and it bothered her more and more as she thought about it.

Draco was doing his best to ignore the redhead's anger, but it was difficult when she sat directly across from him at the table. Adding to this, Astoria had left to find the bathroom, and Harry stood talking to Oliver Wood, who sat a few tables away with some friends. Draco was forced to finally turn his gaze on Ginny.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What is it?"

"I think you know," she replied, darkly.

"I really really don't."

"Oh, yes, you do."

"Hermione, I assume?"

"You assume correctly. She told me everything yesterday. _Everything._ "

A flash of surprise crossed Draco's face, "She only _just_ told you?"

"And when would she have told me? During the war? In the _five and a half years_ she spent in Australia, hiding from you?"

"She wasn't hiding from me. She broke up with me. I tried to fix it, I tried to visit, but the gate blocked me out. So, I sent letter after letter for months. She never responded. Six months after Hermione ended it, the gate stopped rejecting me. Maybe the spell faded away, or the gate got accustomed to me, I don't know, but I went inside, and she was gone, everything was gone. Everything personal was gone."

Ginny looked directly into his eyes, her anger gone, "You _have_ to tell Hermione. You have to tell her. I have a feeling she has some things to tell you, too."

"But-" He protested.

"Go to her."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry sank back into his seat next to Ginny, "Where'd Malfoy go?"

"Draco had some business to take care of. He said not to wait for him."

"And Astoria?"

"Who knows. While eating lunch, or delicately sipping her white wine, she probably mussed her make up and has spent the last fifteen minutes trying to fix it," she replied with a shrug. When Harry shot her a look, indicating it was slightly mean of her to say that, she relented. "I'll check on her."

Astoria sat on the little sofa in the bathroom, examining her nails. Attractive, vapid and self-obsessed, Astoria was not a friendly woman. Ginny had previously exchanged small talk with her but little of substance. Now, for Hermione's sake, Ginny hated her. Having heard Hermione's description of her actions five years previously, Ginny really just wanted to hex her. 

"What's wrong?" She offered, instead.

Astoria looked up, a frown on her red-painted lips.

"I cheated on Draco last night," she said, matter-of-factly. "He's nothing like I thought he would be. He won't shag me. When we kiss, I can tell he doesn't love me. I've loved him for years... and nothing."

Ginny was surprised at the outburst from the usually guarded woman, but replied in kind, "Five years ago, when you thought you loved him, you went about it the wrong way by drugging him, and he'll never trust you again because of that. He didn't want to marry you, and you practically forced a public engagement. I wasn't privy to either of your thoughts at the time, but I've read the papers. He called it off privately only a few days after it was announced, and publicly a few months later. He never loved you, and from the way you acted, I doubt you actually loved him. Astoria, you should break it off before things get worse, before he finds out from someone else."

"I know, I just... I thought if I hid, I could avoid the subject until we're in private," she said, sheepishly.

"He's gone. He left ten minutes ago. We've had our lunch, you can go home. Break it off with Draco," Ginny advised. "If neither of you are that into it, it'll just end badly anyway."

* * *

Hermione sat on the floor just inside the front door of her house. The night they arrived, she'd stumbled, before kicking the pile of letters aside. Now, she was opening them, one by one. She'd sorted them into piles. She could tell the writing of ones from her friends, and had read those first. They were just casual missives, _how are you_ and _we should catch up sometime._ But, in her sorting, there was a growing pile on her left. The writing was vaguely familiar, and Hermione knew she had seen it somewhere, but couldn't place it. Each was dated on the front, and she opened the first.

* * *

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I know you probably hate me with the fire of five thousand suns right now. I deserve it. I was so bloody stupid. I shouldn't have sat down, I shouldn't have drunk any tea (my ultimate downfall). I should have stood up, proclaimed my love for you and the end of the stupid engagement to Astoria, and left. But I didn't. I was an idiot. I was more stupid than Crabbe and Goyle, if that is indeed possible. But I did it, and I'm so very sorry._

_I called it off officially yesterday. I went to Mr. Greengrass' home office and we had a chat. He has some disgusting views on muggleborns, let me tell you. Had I not already decided to marry you, I would have dumped Astoria just on that basis. But I told him I was in love with this brilliant, beautiful, talented witch, and I couldn't marry his daughter. He seemed relieved. Apparently not everyone wants an Order member in the family._

_I do, though. I love you, Hermione, so much. The last time I saw you, I sank down onto your step and cried. Cried. I never cry, you know that. When my father was killed, I didn't cry. I didn't cry when we realised the war was over. I didn't cry, although I wanted to cry happy tears, when you told me you loved me for the first time. But I cried when you told me that it was over because I couldn't imagine my life without you anymore. I still can't imagine it._

_You're such a huge part of my life now, and I don't know how I can keep going without you in it. I love you, and I will keep writing until you respond._

_Love,_ _Draco_

* * *

There were at least eighty more letters, spanning the following six months. Hermione steeled herself and began reading, tears already in her eyes. Thank Merlin that Alec was at the Burrow, she wouldn't want to have traumatised him. An hour later, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Hermione hadn't known. She hadn't known any of this. He'd been in the wrong but he loved her. He'd written to her every two to three days for _months_. And she hadn't known. She wanted to go back in time, find Draco and wrap her arms around him. The later letters were more heartbreaking than the first. He was slowly losing hope, but vowing never to lose it fully. The last one had been bulky, not only containing a letter, but a dead white rose.

Who knew what had caused him to stop the letters, though. Hermione froze. A dead white rose. She dashed up the stairs, and ran into the spare room. The dead white rose still sat on the dressing table. _That_ was what had happened. He'd finally found a way in. He had seen that she was gone. He'd trashed it, because his hope had run out. Hermione had left, and she hadn't said a word. She hadn't read his letters. There had been no hope left, so, in a fit of desolation, of anger, of heartbreak, he'd destroyed the only thing that he could think of that remained of their relationship. The room where they'd spent so much time together. _  
_

_But he didn't know,_ Hermione thought to herself, _he didn't know that he'd left with me another reminder of their relationship. He hadn't known that she carried his child. He hadn't known and he still didn't know. Merlin, there was a conversation she didn't want to have. So many conversations she didn't want to have with the man she needed to talk to._

There was a knock at the door.


	6. Confrontation

Draco stood, slightly dishevelled, on the doorstep. His hand was raised, as if to knock once again, and his eyes were wide; wild and emotive. A grin spread across his face, just at the sight of her.

"I need to tell you someth-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled by Hermione throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, but they could both feel the apology and acceptance, from both sides, in it. Draco was sorry for the situation to begin with, Hermione was sorry for abandoning him without finding out all the details. They were both in accordance, though, that Draco was in the wrong.

Hermione broke the kiss after a few seconds and smiled, "I read your letters."

"Y-you read them?"

"I only just found them. I should have guessed, when I saw the destroyed room, that you did truly love me, that it wasn't just a lie. But I didn't know what to believe anymore. You told me about the engagement to Astoria, which, I must admit, was better than if I had found out another way. And then you didn't come, and I waited, and waited, and then I saw the newspaper and I couldn't bear it anymore. I had no idea what was a lie and what was the truth, so I broke it off. I don't know what happened to your letters before I left, but I found them when I came back and I just read them, all of them, and I understand. I don't condone what you did," Hermione frowned. "But I understand."

"I _am_ sorry."

"I know you are. You aren't completely forgiven, because you were an idiot about it, but I am forgiving you to the degree that we can have a civilised conversation without me biting your head off. We ought to put the past in the past, so to speak," Hermione replied.

Proffering a hand, Draco asked, "Friends?"

"Friends," she smiled, shaking it.

* * *

"Why did you go back to her?"

" _What?_ "

"Why did you go back to Astoria?"

They were sitting on the sofa, as far apart as possible, but facing each other. It was a three-seater, so the great distance between them was only several feet. Hermione sat with her legs pulled to her chest, chin resting on knees, while Draco had his feet propped up on the coffee table. After deciding to end all talk on their five-year-old misunderstanding, they'd been talking vaguely about their lives. But now Hermione had brought up the thing that she'd been wondering for hours.

"Most women I meet either work for me, with me, or are married. There are few women, you and Astoria included, who are single. Mother was pushing the match, again, knowing that I wasn't in a relationship. And, not under the influence of any potion," he looked at her ruefully, "I started dating her. It's only been a few months, but we both know it's not working. As far as I can tell, she fancies Blaise. Thank Merlin for that. I'm not the same person I was when we were children, thus not fulfilling her image of me, and she's not..."

"She's not what?"

"She's not you."

Hermione punched him in the shoulder.

"You were never this violent when we were together!"

"You were never this sappy!"

Draco laughed, grasping one of her hands in both of his, "Well, I never knew what it would be like without you. Dating, life, everyth-OW! You didn't have to punch me _again_!"

"Sap," she stifled a giggle.

He glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows, "It's getting late. Do you have plans for tea?"

"Merlin, what's the time?" Hermione jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

"Five past six."

"Shit!" She swore as she hopped back into the room and headed toward the fireplace, pulling on a shoe. "I have to pick up Alec. If you wait here, we can go eat a friendly dinner together, or something."

Hermione almost tripped over the coffee table as she made her way, hopping all the while, to the dirty fireplace. She shot a glare at Draco, who was laughing at her.

"The Burrow!"

"I'll see you in a bit," he choked out before collapsing back onto the sofa.

* * *

Hermione coughed on the billowing soot as she and Alec reappeared at their home. Alec dashed out first, but Hermione soon collided with him, as he stood stock still, looking at the man cooking in their kitchen. She coughed, and he span to face them. Draco wore her mother's old pink frilly apron and had a smudge of flour on his cheek.

For a second, Hermione considered how it might have been, had 'the Incident' never occurred. They would have been a happy little family. Draco could have taught Alec how to fly, they could have all gone to Quidditch matches together. Hermione could have taught him innocuous spells to use as pranks on his father. As a couple, they could have read Alec bedtime stories, before switching out the light and going to their own bedroom. They could have cooked together in a kitchen, ending up throwing the contents of the mixing bowl at each other instead of actually cooking it. They could have been a family.

She shook her head, clearing the thought, and instead looked down at her son, "Alec, you remember Draco, don't you?"

"Of course," Alec smirked and, for a second, Hermione could see the clear resemblance to his father. The eyes, the skin, the smirk. His love of flying, of anything magical. His occasional arrogance when confronted with other kids, his love of being babied (as much as Draco wouldn't admit it, she knew he loved it too). She'd never compared them, not really, because by the time Alec had passed infancy, Hermione's memories of Draco weren't as full as they'd once been. But now, the two standing in the same room, the resemblance was clear as day.

"How are you?" Draco asked the boy, peering strangely down at him.

"I'm good! Uncle Harry was at the Burrow and he took me flying just before. And Mrs. Weasley said I could have a birthday party there if I'd like and I want to and Mum can I?"

"Of course you can," Hermione smiled weakly. If Draco knew Alec's birthday was coming up, he'd start counting back. He'd realise just when Alec was conceived. He'd realise just who the possible father was. He'd realise that he'd had a little boy for five years and he'd never been told. _Shit. _Shit. _Shit.___ "Why don't you go up to your room and unpack your books and spare clothes. By the time you're done, dinner might be ready."

Alec nodded and dashed up the stairs. By the time the thump of a door being crashed open was heard, Draco had turned to Hermione and was looking at her intently, "When's his birthday?"

"What?" She squeaked. _It was already happening._ _  
_

His voice was hard, "When is Alec's birthday?"

"Next week. Tuesday."

Draco paused, calculating. Hermione sat down at the kitchen table.

"Eight months. A little over eight months after the war ended."

Hermione nodded helplessly, "A week past my due date."

"That means... did you know?"

"Know what?"

"When we broke up, did you know?"

"No, I didn't know. I realised a week later and did the spell to check and..."

Draco froze, "It... he is mine, isn't he?"

She sucked in a breath, "Yes, he is."

"I knew it," Draco whispered. His eyes met Hermione's, "I wondered, when I first saw him, when I first saw you... I wondered. But I thought it was a crazy idea. I thought it was ridiculous. I pushed away the idea, thinking you'd found someone else and had a kid. But he's _my_ child. Why didn't you tell me? Was I never going to be told?"

"I hadn't intended on it, but, after today, I was going to."

"I have a son. I have a _five-year-old_ bloody son, who I have seen no more than three times in his entire life! _How could you think that I didn't deserve to know?_ " Draco's voice was raised, and he paced back and forth across the kitchen.

"I was heartbroken and I thought we might be better off without you involved. It wasn't a fantastic decision, but I was 18! I was upset and I didn't want to have to face you all the time," she explained, one hand massaging her aching temple.

He nodded, curtly.

"Your reasoning, while plainly stupid, was understandable," he took a deep breath. "But I disagree completely, and am frankly disgusted. I want to spend time with Alec... _Alexander._ "

"That can be arranged."

"And you have to stay here this time, Granger. You can't just run away."

Hermione flinched at the use of her last name. He hadn't used it once since her return. He hadn't used it since before he joined the Order. It hurt. It really hurt. So what if she'd taken to calling him Malfoy in recent days, she'd returned to 'Draco' in the past few hours. But here he was, throwing the name 'Granger' right in her face.

"I'm done running."

"Good. I'll drop by tomorrow morning. We can spend time together here, if you would rather."

"That's fine. Goodbye Draco," Hermione sighed.

"'Bye Granger," he snapped.

Draco disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind him.


	7. Suspicions and Snooping

After leaving Hermione's house, Draco did something unexpected. Unexpected to anyone who knew him, unexpected, even, to himself. He apparated to the home of Harry Potter.

While Draco and Harry were decent-enough friends, they were by no means best friends, or at the stage where they would share secrets with one another. However, just minutes after hearing the truth from his ex-girlfriend, Draco Malfoy knocked on the door of the Potter home, preparing himself to discuss the topic of his newly-found son.

_Alec._

He should have known. As soon as he'd heard the name, he should have guessed, he should have assumed. Why would she name him Alexander - the name he'd suggested for their son - if the boy weren't his? But now he knew... and, although he was still furious with Hermione for hiding the truth for _five bloody years_ , he mostly wanted to leave the past in the past. If he began thinking about the missed birthdays and milestones and Sundays they could have spent together, Draco might just have burst. However, thankfully, the door swung open in response to his earlier knock, and he stood face-to-face with Ginny, an expectant look on her face.

"Well?" She asked, hope in her eyes.

He glowered, "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

"That I have a son," Draco spat, rudely brushing past her and moving into the living room.

Ginny said nothing and he could tell that she knew.

"How long?"

"Yesterday."

Hermione had only told her _yesterday?_ His anger lessened slightly. At least not everyone had known before him.

He frowned, "Have you told anyone?"

"Not even Harry. Although James got a mouthful of my feelings when we were on our own. I doubt he'll gossip about it."

Draco's lips twitched, "Is Potter here?"

"In the garden. Go on out, he's playing with James."

"Thanks, Ginny."

Draco walked toward the back door, conveniently placed on the other side of the living room. As he twisted the door handle, Ginny spoke again.

"Did you tell her?"

"Yeah," he sighed, turning back. Strangely enough, Draco was feeling less and less angry. He was hurt, definitely, but he was more regretful of the fact that he hadn't known. It was terrible for Hermione to have hid it, but he couldn't hate her for hating him. "We worked things out pretty well, agreed to be friends and everything. But then I finally let myself realise the truth about Alec, and things went downhill from there..."

"Don't worry, everything will work itself out eventually," Ginny smiled.

* * *

Although he had not actually been informed by Ginny, Harry already knew. His continual suspicions of Snape and Malfoy at school had evoked a good sense of perceptiveness in him, and he was not surprised by Draco's mumbled revelation about the paternity of Hermione's child.

"I know," he said simply, playing all the while with his own son. James was putting differently shaped blocks into their appropriately shaped containers.

Draco spluttered, "How?"

"He has your eyes. He smirks like you did when we were eleven. He's bloody annoying when it comes to flying and Quidditch. And he's Hermione's son. Who else could have been the father?"

No closer to full sentences, Draco blurted, "What?!"

"I knew you were together years ago. Not only did I notice the not-so-inconspicuous glances that quite clearly told everyone you were shagging, I also heard you two once. You were walking down the hall together at Grimmauld Place and talking about your future children," Harry smirked. Although he was friends with Malfoy, it was still nice to best him every once in a while.

His friend smirked, "Looking intently at me, were you, Potter? I didn't know you felt that way about me."

Harry chuckled, "You go ahead believing that."

"What do you think I should do?"

"About 'Mione and Alec? Be a friend, a boyfriend, a husband, something, anything to Hermione. It's your choice, but don't be too tough on her. She was young and she was hurt. Most importantly, continue being a father to Alec," Harry held up a hand when Draco opened his mouth, "Even if you didn't know about him, even if you hadn't met him yet, you've been a father for five years, mate. You might protest, but you were clearly being a father when you helped your son fly at the Burrow the other day."

"Yeah."

"You're going to be a great dad, Malfoy," he smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder.

Draco _was_ scared about being a father. Most people had months to prepare themselves to the idea. He'd wanted kids at some point, some point soon, probably, but he hadn't expected to find out five years after the fact. He wasn't prepared for immediate fatherhood. But, as Potter had said, he could be a great dad. He _would be_ a great dad.

* * *

It was the day of the playdate, as she decided to call it, and Hermione was panicking.

She wasn't worried about Draco being the father to her son (she had worried about that more than enough when she found out she was pregnant), she wasn't worried about Alec loving the father he never had, she wasn't worried (well she was slighly anxious) about how people would react... Hermione Granger was worried about how this would affect her relationship with Draco.

She'd hated him for so long. Not even hated. She'd hardened her heart against him and, although there were distinct fissures in the brick wall that stood between her rationality and her feelings for the man, had effectively decided to leave the past in the past. After the events of the previous several days, Hermione knew she was still upset over what had happened between them. However, their misunderstanding concerning the events back then had been, for the most part, resolved. Now, she was worried that old feelings would resurface as she saw her son warming up to his father. That the time she spent around him would weaken the wall she'd built even more.

Most of all, Hermione Granger was worried that he would never forgive her.

* * *

Draco's plans to take Alec flying, albeit not at the Granger home, as he had promised, were thwarted by the weather. It was surprising, as the winter had been relatively mild, even allowing for the party the week before to be situated outside. However, not only was the ground covered in snow, the air chilly (something Draco did not want to subject his son to the first time they spent time together) and the wind unforgiving, but there was also sleet. Sleet was, in his opinion, worse than snow. It was pelting and horrid. Rain was alright sometimes, and snow could look pretty, but sleet was not a nice thing.

He stood outside Hermione's door for the second time in two days, both excited for what was to come and utterly terrified.

As Harry had said the day before... he could do this. He could be a dad to Alec.

Yes.

Draco knocked on the door. Several seconds later, as if she had been standing mere feet away anticipating his arrival, Hermione opened it, revealing both herself and the young boy standing half-behind her, peeking around her hip.

"Hi," Alec said, grinning.

Draco couldn't help from grinning himself, "Hello."

Opening the door further, Hermione stepped to the side, "Come in."

She looked frazzled, Draco noticed, but better than she had the day before. She looked healthier, better rested, although more anxious.

"Have you told him?" He whispered as Alec ran into the living room.

"I didn't have to. Last night, as I was putting him to bed, he told me he heard some of what he said. Apparently snooping is an inherited trait... I remember you trying to uncover Dumbledore's Army..." Hermione shook her head with a chuckle, "Anyway, Alec asked if you were his father. I asked him if he would like that, and he said, and I quote, "Yes, please, Mummy. He's who I always wanted my daddy to be." So I told him that it was true, that you were, and he's been excited ever since."

Throughout her speech, she'd been looking at her shoes, at a painting on the wall, at the umbrella in the hall stand, but when Hermione finally lifted her eyes to Draco's face, she was touched to see that there were tears glistening in his eyes and a wide smile twisting his mouth. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and shifted, as if to move into the other room.

Hermione held up a hand to halt him.

"Draco, I know you probably hate me for what I did," Hermione began hesitantly. At her neck, a tiny curl escaped the loose bun she'd pulled it into. "But I think we should be friendly in front of Alec. I'm not going to say anything about our not getting along, despite what he may have already picked up, because I want you two to have a fantastic relationship, as you deserve. I don't have the right to ask this of you, but, even if you hate me, could you pleas-"

"I would never," Draco looked affronted, but eventually his features softened so much that Hermione could almost see the man she fell in love with. Finally, he added, "Don't worry, Granger, I could never hate you."


	8. Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, a mini-chapter if you will, was written after several months of hiatus from this story and functions as not only a time jump but also allows for the characters to jump ahead a bit in their own minds and thoughts.

Several Months Later

There were several things troubling Hermione Granger.

_Firstly... Work_

She'd been putting it off again and again. Hermione had applied for several positions, once upon a time, in the days before her return to England, but when faced with the reality of life back home and relationships with her friends and... Malfoy, she had decided to spend some time at home with Alec before he started school. But then Alec started spending time with his father and Hermione ended up at home alone.

Where she'd once have been elated to curl up in an armchair with a book, she sat by the window, anxiously awaiting her son's return. Over time, she became less and less worried when he was gone, and managed to have lunch with Ginny or some friends from Hogwarts. However, Alec would soon be starting school (the one around the corner, where Hermione had also gone), and she needed a job.

_Secondly... Time_

Although it had only been a few months of holidays, Hermione was quickly losing track of time. Was it Tuesday? Or was it Sunday? Was it half-nine? Or was it half-eleven? Of course, when she looked at her mobile, or when she looked at a calendar (on which she had had to start marking off the days), Hermione knew exactly what day it was, but she had once practically been a human calendar, a human clock. Even when she'd had to make use of a Time Turner in third year, Hermione had always known what time it was, as if it were a biological function of hers, rather than an innate sense.

She needed a return to normalcy, a return to work, in order to reset the clock.

_And, finally... Draco Malfoy_

He was a good father. He was friendly. He was kind. And Hermione had a feeling that over the past few months, she'd totally fallen back in love with Draco Malfoy. She couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment it happened, but one day, the feeling was there again. Not the heartbroken-love feeling, but the oh-my-goodness-I-love-him feeling. Hermione looked forward to when he would visit, although time and time again she would have to remind herself that he visited for Alec's sake, not her own.

He came to drop off a present for Alec that he picked up one day at the shops.

He came to pick Alec up for a Quidditch practice with his friends' kids.

He came to take Alec on his first sleepover at Dad's house.

He didn't come to see Hermione.

Okay, so there was a little bit of the heartbroken-love feeling in there. But it was more fluttery than stomach-dropping. And it was nice to feel that way again.

But it shouldn't be Dra-Malfoy. She'd taken to calling him Malfoy again in her mind. Of course, she called him 'Dad' for Alec, and she addressed him as 'Draco', but he had to be Malfoy in her mind. She might love him, or at least fancy him quite a bit, but it couldn't happen again. They had Alec to consider.

Maybe it was because Malfoy was the first non-friend male she'd spoken to in a while.

Maybe she just needed some interaction with men.

 _Maybe, maybe_ , Hermione realised, _she needed to start dating again._


	9. Uh Oh

Hermione Granger hadn't been out on a date in years. Yes, it was true that sometimes she felt rather inclined to go out for a nice dinner and have a glass of wine while chatting with a companion, but she just didn't do it. Friends in Australia had tried to set her up with people, but there were always more important things to be done, whether it be putting Alec to bed, or having a family dinner with her parents, or even just work. She hadn't felt pressured to date, and she hadn't considered it in the sense where she wanted a long-term relationship, but the thought was always in the back of her mind... it was something she ought to do at some point soon.

And it was now, apparently, some point soon.

Fluttery feelings about a man were all well and good, but Malfoy was the father of her child-Merlin help her-and she couldn't have those sorts of feelings about him. Considering their history, too, it just wasn't right.

She was going to start dating.

* * *

After several days ruminating on the situation, and how to even _broach_ the subject to Alec, Hermione opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted before a word left her mouth.

"Are you lonely?"

Alec sat at the kitchen table, looking up at his mother with wide eyes. His spoon, with which he had been shovelling cereal into his mouth until ten seconds earlier, lay dejected in his empty bowl.

She stood gaping for a second before she managed a "What?"

"Are you a little bit lonely, Mummy?" Alec asked curiously.

_Where was this coming from? Was he unhappy?_

Hermione smiled and hugged him to her, "I could never be truly lonely when you're with me."

Her son giggled but shook his head, persevering.

"I don't mean me! I mean a man. Like Aunt Ginny has Uncle Harry. Do you not want one?"

 _My son_ , Hermione thought with affection. _  
_

"I... hadn't thought much about it," she said. It was mostly true. Except the few months directly after she got to Australia, she hadn't even considered it until very very recently. "Would that be alright with you, if I did want one?"

Alec nodded, a small smile on his face... _he was right._ Had anyone ever doubted who his mother was (quite an impossibility but impossibilities aside), his need to be right was _so_ Hermione Granger.

"I have Dad, so I don't need one," Hermione winced at this, although it wasn't her fault that his father hadn't been in the picture for so long, but didn't stop her son from continuing, "But you do, Mummy. Then you can be happy like Aunt Ginny." _  
_

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes, smarty pants, alright."

"So you'll look for a man?"

Hermione laughed, "Yes, I'll look for a man."

"Good," Alec pronounced, before returning to his breakfast.

 _Well that wasn't how I thought that conversation was going to go,_ Hermione thought.

She was going to start dating. Fifteen minutes later, she and Alec travelled by Floo powder to the Potters' house. Alec disappeared straight away, presumably to find the men, but Hermione sank into a chair.

When Ginny found her, she raised her eyebrows at Hermione's worried expression.

"Gin, I think I need your help..."

* * *

Ginny, although surprised at her friend's request for a blind date, spent several days in serious thought about who to set Hermione up with. In fact, everything in connection to this groundbreaking date (Had Hermione ever asked for a date? Had Hermione ever even gone on a proper date?) was done with utmost seriousness. Ginny made reservations at the sweet little café where she had taken her mother last Mother's Day. She told the man in question that he was to be on his best behaviour and that if Hermione wasn't grinning when she returned home that he would be hexed into the next century. Hermione had gone through a lot in past years and deserved a perfect first date.

* * *

Alec was almost as excited as she was.

Scratch that, he was more excited. When he heard that she was going out to buy a new dress, in a move that she was sure would one day endear him to many a girlfriend, he insisted on coming along to give his approval. _How was her young son so slick and cool?_ And then she realised. He'd been spending _way_ too much time with Malfoy. Or perhaps it was the Malfoy genes, making their way to the surface. Nature, rather than nurture.

As he rejected dress after dress, Hermione grew more and more upset. A woman who'd borne a child didn't necessarily have the same body as a 20-year-old, but she was far from hideous. What was wrong with them all?

It was the second last dress to try on that finally caught his eye, which was beginning to waver toward the cake shop across the street. In a few minutes he'd be pressed up against the glass, salivating.

It was very dark green, almost black, on the hanger, but as soon as it was on, and contrasted with her hair, it looked much more green. And it was stunning. She loved it. Waisted and hanging to just above her knees, it showed a bit of cleavage, without looking too much like a tart.

Alec loved it too, although by that point she thought he might have just been imagining she was a cake.

Five minutes later they were out of the shop, shopping bag in hand.

_She was going on a date._

* * *

She was going on a date.

And yet, it wasn't until Hermione stood, touching up her lipstick for the last time in the mirror, and the doorbell rang that she fully comprehended what was going on.

She'd considered her feelings, she'd thought about what to do, she'd spoken with Ginny, she'd had days to prepare for this moment, she'd even taken care to buy a new dress, and yet she hadn't considered exactly what to say or do once she was on the date.

She was Hermione Granger and for once she wasn't prepared for a situation.

The doorbell chimed a second time, slightly more insistently.

_Uh oh._


	10. What Happens In Gardens

Although she hadn't had particularly high hopes, Hermione Granger had been excited for her date. It was her first in a very long time, and she deserved to move on with her life. But when she opened the door, she just _knew_ the evening wasn't going to end well.

It would be a catastrophe.

A colossal disaster.

Because, on her doorstep, stood not one, but two men.

* * *

It took Hermione several seconds to fully process the situation, and quite a few more before she could even think of what to say in such a situation.

Draco Malfoy was standing on her doorstep.

He was standing on her doorstep, talking to a tall, dark-haired man.

A stranger.

 _Her date_.

Oh _Merlin_.

"So how do you know-"

"Hello!" Hermione interjected.

She wasn't exactly sure was speaking, although it didn't sound like Malfoy, but she really didn't want anyone answering that question. _Oh, I'm Hermione's ex-boyfriend, with whom she has a child..._ or _Well, I've never met her before, but I'm here to date her._ Yeah, that'd end well. Her date would balk, and Malfoy would... she didn't know what Malfoy would do.

Her date proffered his hand, "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Thomas. Thomas Digby."

"Hermione Granger," she smiled, shaking his hand.

She liked him immediately. Not only did he have a rich, deep voice, but he was tall (not too tall that he would be difficult to kiss if she were wearing heels), athletic (his clothes fit very nicely) and he had warm, brown eyes. Thomas Digby seemed like a nice, normal wizard. She would have to thank Ginny, if she survived the night. Hermione turned to the other man, who stood slightly back, watching curiously.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" _Had he heard about her date? Was he here to ruin it? Bastard. Was he jealous? No, no, not that train of thought._ Hermione grimaced, "Well?"

He traced one of his eyebrows, not exactly looking her in the eye, "Sorry, I came at a bad time... I was wondering if Alec wanted to go see a Quidditch match with me tonight... although it seems that he's not here..."

 _He found the situation awkward. He wasn't here to ruin her date. It was even nice_ , Hermione considered grudgingly, _that he wanted to spend time with his son on a Saturday night. And she should let him..._

"Alec's at the Burrow. Make sure he takes a warm jacket, and definitely do not let him out of your sight. It's a Saturday and he can stay out until the end of the game, but I expect him back at the Burrow and in bed no later than an hour after it finishes. Are we clear?"

Malfoy chuckled, relieved, it would seem, "Of course."

* * *

The date had gone well. Not badly, not fantastically, but well. He wasn't thrilling, and she didn't feel the urge to jump straight into bed with him, but Thomas Digby was a nice man. He was intelligent and attractive. He liked cats, and had never felt the urge to play Quidditch, which Hermione couldn't help but admire. He read not only the Daily Prophet but The Times and a business paper that Hermione would never read, even in her most dull dreams. And, although she probably shouldn't have liked this most about him, Hermione really loved his voice.

Another plus? He wasn't Malfoy.

He was Thomas Digby, a fact that she was rather glad about as they apparated together (rather closely, she noticed) back to her front gate. He was Thomas Digby, a fact that she was very conscious of when he stepped closer, so that their shoes touched. He was Thomas Digby, the first man she'd dated in a long long time, a fact that worried her as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. He was Thomas Digby, a fact that she really wasn't thinking about as she opened her mouth slightly, making the kiss more passionate.

He was Thomas Digby.

He wasn't Malfoy.

And she was enjoying herself. She was content. She was happy.

_Huh._

* * *

Draco had no idea how the match went. He was a die-hard Caerphilly Catapults fan, but he barely even mentally registered their goals. As Alec jumped up and down excitedly at every pass (his first real Quidditch match!), Draco sat, stewing, wondering how exactly Hermione was going on dates.

_Had she been going on them long? Was this a common occurrence? Had Alec in his younger years accidentally called other men Daddy?! Had she come close to marrying any of them? How long had she waited since they broke up until she started dating? At least until well after Alec was born... right?_

Why was he thinking these things? Why did she matter? They were done. He was happy, and he was with Alec. Well... not right now. Alec was probably safely tucked in bed at the Burrow.

He certainly wasn't standing in a muggle garden, hiding behind a small hedge and watching Hermione kiss a man she'd just met for way too long.

Thank Merlin for that, it would have been embarrassing for his son to see him like this.

The man left, and Draco poked his head around the hedge to get a better look, ignoring the flower petals that ended up in his ear.

Hermione grinned to herself before slipping inside the house.

_She was happy._

"Oi! You! What are you doing in my garden?" The shrill voice echoed through the empty street.

_Shit._

"I'll call the police! I will! Why are you lurking there? What are you doing?"

Hermione's door opened again, her head poking out.

"Pervert! There's a pervert in my garden!" The woman yelled, louder.

_SHIT._

Draco launched himself into the cover of the hedge and out of sight before quickly apparating home.

_Why was he like this?_

He'd almost gotten caught stalking Hermione. He'd been called a _pervert._ (He clearly wasn't, but after his school years, it had become a touchy subject for him.)

Why was he doing it? It wasn't like he was jealous... he just didn't like that she was going on dates. He had his son to consider after all. It wasn't that he wanted to punch the bastard in the face for dating her. Definitely not.

What was that name anyway? _Thomas Digby._

"It sounds like he wants to talk about taxes," Draco muttered to himself.

He certainly wasn't jealous.

No, definitely not.

He just... didn't like that she was dating people. People other than him.

_Huh._


	11. Man With A Plan

Draco Malfoy was not a fan of accepting things. It had taken him a good long while to accept that Ron and Harry weren't as horrible as he'd assumed. He hadn't fully accepted the fact that Hermione had ended things and left until weeks later, when Longbottom (of all people) found him half-starved and blind-drunk in a muggle bar and forced him to accept the truth. And it had taken him more than a few minutes to process the fact that he was jealous and he was still in love with Hermione Granger.

He _loved_ her.

And he was going to do anything and everything to get her back.

She'd already begun to properly forgive him. But, even though their breakup was a product of miscommunication and bad timing on his part, he knew it would take a while for Hermione to allow him back into her heart.

What Draco needed was a plan, and it wasn't until a chance run-in with Hermione, her new boyfriend and Alec in Diagon Alley that he knew exactly what he was going to do.

* * *

Diagon Alley was bustling at 12:13pm on a Wednesday. People rushed between businesses and offices to little cafés and the occasional restaurant. Young mothers ushered around their small children, holding fast to their hands and parcels. Older men and women chatted as they walked, well accustomed to the weekday crowds. Draco was not accustomed to the weekday crowds, and it was as he was almost knocked over by a third witch hurrying on her errands that he decided to give up trying to manoeuvre down the street until it had cleared a bit.

And it was for this reason that Draco was settling comfortably into a large booth at a new and as yet not popular café beside Flourish and Blotts. It came as a distinct surprise, for he had not even attempted to engineer a meeting with Hermione, worrying that she'd catch on to his feelings before he could come up with a plan to win her back, that his son was seated at the next table.

"Dad!" Alec exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of the several other patrons littered across the room.

Draco's grin, which emerged at the sight of his son, disappeared as soon as his eyes fell on Hermione, who sat holding hands with her date from the other night. Digby. The taxes man.

He _did_ take pleasure in the fact that Digby looked as unhappy with the situation as he did.

However, Hermione apparently didn't find it awkward at all, as she quickly (too quickly?) asked if Draco would like to join them. And, just as swiftly as the whole interaction had begun, he found himself sitting at the nearby table between Alec and Hermione, facing Digby.

"Draco Malfoy," he drawled purposely, smirking. "And you are?"

"I… I think we met the other day. At Hermione's?" The man rubbed an eyebrow nervously, but smiled politely. "Digby's the name. Thomas Digby."

Hermione, perhaps finally seeing the disastrous situation on her hands or perhaps already tiring of Digby, cleared her throat, "Thomas, could you be good enough to go up and order for us? Alec and I'll both have toasted ham and cheese sandwiches with chips."

"Of course." Digby stood, revealing very tight khakis (Draco almost gagged at the sight), and pulled out his wallet, "Draco? Need to order?"

"Oh, no, I ordered when I came in. Go ahead." _Better yet, leave._ "I'll stay here and keep these two company."

Digby wandered up the cake display and began pointing and asking various questions that were too soft to hear from the table. Draco turned to Hermione, who was rubbing her temples.

"Headache?"

She started, hands falling to fiddle idly with her silverware, "No! No. I mean, yes, I have a headache, but it's irrelevant. I've had it all day. Nothing to do with Thom—I mean, lunc—I mean, yo—I've had it all day."

"Yes, you said that," Draco laughed. "Digby's a dud then?"

She looked outraged, "Most definitely not! He's a wonderful, kind, intelligent person. He—"

"He looks and sounds like someone who enjoys talking about taxes."

Alec, who'd been unusually quiet, piped up, "That's what he was talking about the whole way here. That thing! Tack-ses!"

Hermione wrung her hands.

"There's nothing wrong with an interest in certain things…" She trailed off, but Draco heard her mutter something along the lines of "…as long as it's not bloody boring things like taxes."

He stifled a chuckle.

And then he knew.

He knew what his plan was going to be.

He was not only not going to interfere with her relationship with Digby the dud, but he was going to encourage it.

He was going to encourage them to spend time together. There was the little problem of physical relationship progression, but Draco had faith in Hermione's boredom that she wouldn't be interested in much more than the bloody disgusting kiss he'd witnessed the other day.

He was going to encourage it, but he was also going to take Hermione and Alec on fantastic, fun, exciting dates disguised as 'family trips'.

He had a plan.

And it was definitely going to work.

* * *

It wasn't working.

The plan just wasn't working.

Well… maybe it was working, but Hermione hadn't broken up with Digby the dud yet, and even though they'd been on two family trips and she clearly had begun to consider him as a friend and non-enemy, he was far from getting her to open her heart to him again. And this huge, enormous fact was bloody annoying.

So Draco decided to get drunk for once.

He hadn't often touched liquor after his actions during the fallout from his breakup with Hermione, and drank almost always in the context of one drink or two at a social function or business drinks. But he was sick and tired of thinking all the time. Considering his actions around her, considering how the plan was going. He was a man with a plan and yet it just wasn't working out.

The muggle pub he chose was convenient. Quite close to his place, and the whiskey was good. He liked whiskey. Or perhaps it was the whiskey talking. He _was_ on his third.

After the fourth, he began considering that maybe the plan was working, but he just hadn't seen it yet.

After the fifth, he concluded that he was never going to get Hermione back and he might as well drink away his sorrows.

After the sixth... somewhere during the sixth... Draco made a decision.

He quickly paid in muggle notes, slurring a thanks to the bartender on his way out.

* * *

_He was a man with a plan._

_He'd made a decision._

__Hermione._ _

_Man with a plan._

_Decision._

_Hermione._

_Man with a plan._

_Decision._

_Plan._

_Hermione._

* * *

When Draco woke in the morning, disoriented and headache-y, he couldn't remember a single thing past stumbling out of the pub. In normal circumstances, it wouldn't have worried him. In normal circumstances he would have crawled home, thrown himself onto his bed or a sofa, and fallen asleep immediately. These weren't normal circumstances.

He wasn't in bed.

He wasn't on his sofa.

He wasn't at home.

_Where on Earth was he?_

_And what in Merlin's name had happened?_


	12. A Truth Is Accepted

Hermione hadn't expected any visitors that night. It was already well past half-eleven, and most of her old school friends had children of their own. There were only two people who she imagined it might be, and one was very unlikely to knock on her door without calling first. And yet, although she'd already determined who her caller likely was, Hermione could never have imagined that he was as far gone as he was, and that in such a state, he'd decided it best to rest against the door. So, as she turned the doorknob, the door quickly gave way and sent Draco crashing to the ground, dragging Hermione down with him in a heap.

It was several seconds before he moved, but he soon supported himself on his elbows so their faces weren't far apart, the rest of his body still on top of hers. A slow grin spread across his mouth, transforming his face from tipsy and introspective to boyish and happy. Hermione could still see the hint of his smirk, though, as he noticed her watching him. The smirking elements disappeared as he clambered to his feet, surprisingly nimble for someone who'd clearly drunk quite a lot, and offered her a hand up.

"Hello."

She placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be pulled upright.

There was no humour in her voice when she responded.

"Hello, Draco."

* * *

_That night began a week of unexpected events._

_One truth was accepted;_

_One relationship ended;_

_One person was lost;_

_Three unlikely men confessed their feelings to each other;_

_And one kiss was bestowed._

* * *

There was a man in the house.

On the sofa.

In her house.

Draco Malfoy was in her house, drunk and half-sitting-half-collapsed on her sofa.

His eyes had slowly shut as he settled into the cushions, where he'd landed when Hermione couldn't handle carrying him any further.

"'Mione..."

She stood in the doorway, studying the floor, hesitant to enter the room and fully commit herself to the situation. Her name on his lips made her head bolt up.

"'Mione... why won't she forgive me? You told me that over time she might forgive me, Mum, but I don't think she ever will," he whimpered, half-asleep.

Hermione made a choice and moved into the room, somehow ending up at the other end of the sofa that Draco sat on. _Where on Earth was this coming from? Was he really that messed up by her not forgiving him? It wasn't that she hated him. She was... she was punishing him._ Hermione was surprised by her revelation. _Had she really been punishing him?_

With one eye cracked open, Draco sighed and shifted on the sofa, lying down fully. Hermione yelped. His head was in her lap.

"Mum... what can I do?"

He sounded so hopeless. So pitiful. So definitely not the man she thought had abandoned her to marry someone else. He was _sad._

And it was her fault.

"All I want is for her not to hate me..." His voice was drowsy, dreamlike, but _so very sad_. "What can I _do_?"

Hermione said nothing. After several minutes, his breathing slowed and deepened.

He was asleep.

On her lap.

* * *

The first thing Hermione noticed when she woke up was the crick in her neck. Her bed was _usually_ comfortable and she didn't often fall asleep reading these days, since she was exhausted by the time she went to bed. But there she was, with a crick in her neck, sitting on the sofa, freshly awake. And there was a man on her lap.

It took several seconds of staring at the blond hair for Hermione to realise what had happened and who it was.

Drunk Draco.

He had come to her house drunk, fallen asleep on her sofa and mumbled things in his sleep that made Hermione realise just how awful she'd been to him. She was punishing him, and he obviously wasn't the person who'd unceremoniously and accidentally dumped her long ago. She had to accept the truth that he wasn't an awful person and that she had to try harder to be nice to him. She'd forgiven him, but needed to show it better. Punishing him was mean and spiteful, even if she'd enjoyed it more than she was willing to admit.

His head shifted on her lap and her eyes drifted to his face. It was peaceful, empty of the sadness in his voice the night before. Draco looked a lot younger, and Hermione absently noted that it had been a long time since she'd slept beside him.

A lock of hair lay across his forehead, landing on his closed eye. Her hand itched forward, gently brushing it away.

Slowly, hesitantly, her fingers ghosted his eyebrows, his nose, his lips.

He looked exactly the same, this was exactly the same, but everything was different.

The fireplace flashed and a familiar voice shouted, "Mummy!"

Draco's opened quickly in shock at the sound, Hermione's hand instinctively jumping back.

_What had she just done?_

__How exactly was she going to explain this situation?_ _

_More importantly, when exactly had Draco woken up?_


	13. An Impossibility

After that extremely awkward moment on the couch with Draco, Hermione had pretended that nothing had happened. And nothing _really_ had. Even if she was going to face him differently now, and with less hostility, it wasn't like she still loved him.

They ended up running into each other in Flourish and Blotts early one Saturday morning, when the shop was almost empty. Draco's head was just visible above a bookcase and when Hermione rounded the corner, she found him not only with his nose stuck in a book, but struggling with half a dozen picture books held in his arms.

"Do you need some help?"

At the sound of a voice so close behind him, Draco span around, managing to drop all but one of the books.

"It seems like you do," Hermione added, picking up the scattered books and handing them back to Draco before he finished registering that he should pick them up.

Draco muttered his thanks and enquired, "How are you?"

"Good, good. And you?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. I'm good. Normal, you know?" He struggled, still awkward from the last time they'd met. "I'm picking up some books for Alec to have for at my place. Do you think he'd like these? I mean, they're picture books... is he too advanced for that?"

Hermione smiled, "No, no, they're fine. Plus, you're never too old for a picture book. I'm sure he'll love them."

They started walking toward the counter, Draco with his numerous books and Hermione with just one.

"Why isn't Diggleby here with you?" He asked suddenly. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the purposeful mispronunciation and Draco added, muttering, "I would have thought that he'd stick to your shoe like gum most of the time..."

"Actually, we broke up."

Draco covered his grin with a not-so-subtle cough.

* * *

_It was several days after The Incident and instead of wallowing at home with Alec on a Sunday afternoon, she sat in the Potters' garden with Harry as they watched their children play._

_"You have to dump Digby, Hermione," he said bluntly._

_Hermione's head snapped toward him, "Why?"_

_Harry frowned apologetically, but added, "He's a bore. He's not all that great of a person. Most of all, you don't like him."_

_She opened her mouth to protest but her friend held up a hand to stop her._

_"I know that you're only dating him to annoy Draco. In the beginning, yes, you were interested. But now? I doubt you can stand him any more than Draco can."_

_Hermione fixed her gaze on the children once again and shrugged, "He's a nice person... but I was already planning on breaking up with him. I've fully forgiven Draco and it's time I stopped punishing him."_

_Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was unlike Hermione to admit that she was even somewhat in the wrong._

_"Good. Do it sooner than later, though, 'Mione."_

_She laughed, "Merlin, yes."_

* * *

Hermione had to smother a laugh at Draco's reaction. He was overjoyed.

Still spluttering, he asked, "Can I ask why? You seemed to like him..."

"He was a nice, smart person. But I fell asleep twice while he was telling me about his work, and he _wasn't_ funny. I didn't _like_ him, but he's a decent man," she concluded. "Another reason I continued to date him was because you hated him, I have to admit, and when I decided that I can't hate you anymore and that we should move on from the pas-"

Hermione froze, realising that she'd said more than she had intended.

But instead of grinning again, Draco just nodded, quietly responding with, "I appreciate that. Thank you."

"So, er, friends?"

"Definitely," he said, proffering his hand.

"I'm glad."

She placed her hand in his and instead of shaking it, he just held it. One thumb slowly moved until it was softly caressing her hand. His eyes met hers and they were so warm, so thankful, so happy that Hermione wanted to cry.

_Had she really been that awful?_

Yes, yes she had. But she had stopped and she had apologised.

They were moving on.

They were... holding hands.

Still.

Draco's eyes darkened slightly and Hermione swore she saw some indecision in them, before he leant forward and-

"Sir, please take your books."

Hermione blinked and stepped back, pulling her hand away.

They were in public.

They were in a bookshop.

And they had been holding hands.

She'd just forgiven him and now they were holding hands?

_What had she gotten herself into?_

* * *

_Digby had been unsurprised by her suggestion that they break up. He hadn't argued that they should persevere or try to work things out. He didn't ask for excuses or pretend to give them. In fact, he said that he'd known for a while that they wouldn't work out._

_"It's the Malfoy bloke, isn't it? Alec's father?"_

_Hermione couldn't respond. It wasn't_ really _about Draco..._

_"I saw it in your eyes that day when we met, and every time you mention him. There's something there. Whether it's old feelings or a new romance, I don't know. But don't kid yourself anymore, Hermione."_

_"I-I..."_

_"I don't care what your excuses are. We aren't suited, anyway. You're a bit... unconventional for me, to be honest. I need someone a bit more stable, a bit more... studious?"_

_Hermione wanted to laugh, but she was having trouble comprehending what had just happened._

_Was he... dumping her?_

_Was he saying that she loved Draco?_

_That was... an impossibility._

_Or so she thought until they were standing in a bookshop holding hands the next day, gazing into each other's eyes._

_An impossibility._

_No way._


	14. It Sort Of Just Happened

A ringing phone startled Hermione from her thoughts. She was early for her lunch plans with Ginny, and sat in a muggle park near the restaurant her friend had chosen.

"I, er, got a bit lost on the way, so I won't be able to make it," Ginny apologised, after saying hello. "You have a nice lunch, though! Go on without me."

"But, Gin, you were the one who chose the restaurant, how could you get lo-"

The phone cut off quickly, leaving Hermione to wonder what in Merlin's name was going on.

* * *

The Vipertooth, a small but popular restaurant, was busy when Draco arrived.

He gave his name to the waiter by the door and was led to a small table by the window, where he positioned himself facing away from both the street and the door. It might have been years since he was spoken of with notoriety, but Draco Malfoy's face and hair were too easily recognised for a quiet lunch with Harry Potter, who had somehow escaped his celebrity in recent years.

Potter was late, which was common, but he usually owled ahead of time. Draco turned his gaze from the menu, as he had already decided on a steak and chips, to the occupants of other tables.

After noting the presence of three people from Hogwarts, whose names he really couldn't remember, and a woman he was sure his mother was close friends with, his eyes fell on a dark-haired woman sitting two tables away, eyes fastened on a book.

It was with considerable shock, to not only himself but the other patrons and the woman herself, that Draco called out "Hermione!", raising a hand in greeting. Less than a minute later, he was seated at her table, and the book ( _Dracula_ ) was placed securely inside Hermione's handbag.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, glancing around at the curious onlookers. It was so easy for them both to forget that no one knew how close they had gotten years ago. No wonder their sitting together was a shock to everyone.

He smiled, "Having lunch with Potter, what about you?"

Hermione frowned, "Ginny and I made plans...but she cancelled..."

It took only a few seconds before realisation flashed in both of their eyes.

"They planned this, didn't they?" Hermione concluded, already sure.

* * *

"How do you think it's going?"

The Potters sat on a park bench across from the restaurant, not bothering to hide their blatant spying from passers-by.

Harry was a semi-unwilling participant in the plot, but he did have to admit that the couple inside looked like they were enjoying each other's company. Both Hermione and Draco were his close friends, and the parents of his godson Alec. Despite everything that had happened, his conversation with Hermione earlier in the week had convinced him that she had feelings for Draco. Maybe Ginny's plan _was_ a good idea...

* * *

Draco was more fun that Hermione remembered.

After lunch, the pair had somehow ended up on the floor in a muggle toy shop, testing out little toy cars for Alec and the Potter children.

"What was your life like in Australia?" Draco asked, absentmindedly rolling a car with one hand.

Hermione looked up from the packaging that she was reading.

"I suppose the best word for it would be _normal._ For the first time in a long time, I finally felt normal. I still used magic and Alec has almost always known that it existed, but our lives were simple and carefree, as normal as anyone could hope for," she smiled, and Draco noted that it reached her eyes.

 _She enjoyed her time there,_ he realised, _even if she was still hurting._

"I worked in the State Library, one of the largest in the country, and lived with my parents, who have their own practice there. Alec went to kindergarten and would have started school this year there. He's bright so he was able to jump right in here, even missing the first few months. We were happy..." Hermione gasped, and quickly amended her statement, "I mean, we're happy here too, but-I was describing-you know what I mean."

He laughed and grinned at her, and it was all Hermione could do not to forget that the last five and a bit years had happened. They weren't still together and they'd been through so much, but talking and laughing was so _easy_ together. It was natural.

They were both startled, Draco more so, when Hermione's bag began emitting a siren.

Seconds later, Hermione had answered her mobile, but Draco was still looking at her bag in wonder.

" _What?! You lost him? Where are you? What happened?"_

Hermione stumbled to her feet, grabbed her bag and ran out of the shop.

Draco followed immediately, asking her what was wrong as soon as she hung up the phone.

" _Ron took Alec to a Quidditch match and got distracted and lost him in the crowd. Alec's gone!_ "

* * *

Ron Weasley was in a panic long before he called Hermione and by the time she arrived, he was convulsing in fear and frustration.

Instead of yelling at him like she wanted to, Hermione hugged him immediately, knowing that he was already feeling awful.

Draco was not feeling so magnanimous.

_"What happened?"_

Ron grimaced.

"I was standing right next to him, holding his hand, and then the crowd grew and it sort of just happened and then... he was gone."

"Where have you looked so far?" Hermione asked. The game was still going on, so there were few people milling around.

"The seats. The stairs where I lost him. I called you almost right away, I thought you'd rather know and help," Ron trailed off.

Hermione soon organised the locations each person would search and they would meet in fifteen minutes back where they started.

Draco patted her on the shoulder before he went to search. She was holding up remarkably, much better than him, and he was concerned... but all Draco really wanted was to find his son and make sure he was never lost again. He'd heard of muggles putting leashes on their children. Initially he'd thought the practice barbaric, but now... 

He went first to the ticket desk, asking if they had seen a little boy of Alec's description. A worker offered to ask his friend who had just gone on break, also suggesting that Draco look in the bathrooms, as a lot of children ended up getting lost in the search for bathrooms.

Five minutes later, passing by again, the worker informed him that his friend hadn't seen Alec, but that he hoped he'd find him soon.

It was almost time to meet Hermione and Ron when Draco stopped in front of a door. It was poorly signposted, just a small arrow with a picture, but it was surely a men's bathroom.

As he pushed open the door, holding his breath in the hope that his hunch would be accurate, Draco heard a sob and moved quickly into the room.

Alec sat in the corner, knees curled to his chest, crying.

Draco let out a sigh and his son looked up, a relieved smile on both of their lips.

"Daddy!" Alec catapulted toward his father, jumping and wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Thank Merlin, Alec," Draco murmured, hugging his son tightly. "Let's go find your mother."

* * *

Hermione didn't let go of Alec until they were well inside her house.

He made his way up to his room, slightly traumatised but no worse for wear. Alec had promised to be more careful next time and after such a scare, Draco knew his son would take more care in the future. Draco was still considering the leash. He was, in fact, about to bring it up with Hermione when she sank into the sofa and muffled a scream with a pillow.

Draco rushed over but Hermione looked much more relaxed than she had as they apparated home and made their way inside. She seemed almost normal. She was still so scared though, he could tell. Alec had been fine and they found him _relatively_ quickly but it was a shock for all of them and Hermione was still recovering. She was his mother. She had been his mother for five years. Draco was barely used to being a father and he had felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him at the thought of Alec being lost.

Instinctually, he reached out and pulled Hermione into his arms. It was an embrace their bodies both remembered well and they settled comfortably together, forgetting the time that had passed. Five and a half years ago they'd sat in a similar position as Draco told Hermione of his impending engagement to Astoria.

So many things were different.

So many things had happened.

But there they were, sitting in the same position, with completely different feelings to the past, both secretly in love with each other.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading this fic. The ending's been a long time coming (like, years) and I hope it's not too much of a short conclusion. After all that's happened, another long set of misunderstandings just didn't feel right. Hope you enjoy!

_ So many things were different. _

_ So many things had happened. _

_ But there they were, sitting in the same position, with completely different feelings to the past, both secretly in love with each other. _

 

* * *

 

Hermione had never known how to deal with her feelings well. Her one long-term relationship had ostensibly been one of transparency and frankness. Draco was like that, and she had reciprocated in kind.

Yet, when faced with the realisation that she was secretly in love with her ex-boyfriend/father-of-her-child, Hermione did the only thing she could think of.

She buried her feelings. She and Draco were finally in a good place of friendship and parenthood and Hermione decided wholeheartedly to dedicate herself to that.

The potential for introducing awkwardness and ruining things for Alec was too high to even consider. Nothing would be done.

How important were feelings anyway? 

They could be easily overpowered by sheer control of the mind.

 

* * *

 

Draco was going crazy. 

After the night of the Quidditch match — after their embrace — Hermione had been avoiding any time alone with him. The first few days, Draco had assumed were circumstantial… why wouldn’t Alec or a Weasley be around at all times? He assumed close families and friends were just like that.

Yet, as days turned to a week and a week into two, he found that he and Hermione were never alone in the same room. And the one time they were, Hermione had darted into the hall to find Alec.

She was avoiding him.

_Why?_

 

* * *

 

It was becoming more and more difficult to find people to put between her and Draco.

Ginny had been fed up weeks ago, and if asked to interfere for much longer, Hermione suspected her friend would begin _engineering_ moments for her and Draco to be alone. Harry and Ron didn’t know about her feelings, so their helpfulness was never guaranteed and they may just have accidentally left her alone with Draco. Alec was a child and, although perceptive, did not need to know his mum was avoiding his dad.

Hermione was reaching a loose end.

Her feelings, stomped down and buried, continued trying to break out of their little box every time she saw Draco.

So she’d avoided him.

But he had noticed. And she had no one left to turn to.

 

* * *

 

It was a Saturday morning several weeks after the Quidditch game that Draco finally managed to corner Hermione. Alec was upstairs reading while Hermione packed a picnic for the father and son to take on a secret excursion.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Draco stated, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Hermione froze for a second. But, instead of turning to Draco as she normally would have done, she focussed her eyes on the fruit she was slicing, “Have I? I certainly haven’t been doing it on purpose.”

She heard a chuckle from behind her but once again did not turn. She knew she would see accusing eyes and a sad smirk. He had noticed and he was hurt. 

“Rather than let you continue with this avoidance for another three weeks, I thought we should talk about it.”

“About what? I haven’t been avoiding you,” Hermione flashed a quick smile over her shoulder. It was so fake that it ached to just maintain it.

“Us. We need to talk about us,” he shifted closer, into the corner of her eye so she was forced to look at him. “We’ve been in love with each other for years — you know as well as I do that neither of us ever stopped — and I think we should try to work things out.”

Hermione felt the corner of her mouth twitch up in a smile. _Neither of us ever stopped_. Of course they hadn’t. She knew they hadn’t. She’d been stupid, pushing off her feelings as unwanted, as a way to hurting herself and Alec again. But she also knew that the same misunderstandings from before weren’t going to happen. They’d always loved each other. And since she’d returned from Australia, his behaviour had seemed only to confirm that.

“Okay.”

Draco’s serious expression was quickly replaced by a grin as he picked Hermione up and kissed her.

It was several minutes later that a little boy walked into the kitchen to see his parents still kissing.

He simply wandered back out but smiled to himself.

He had a family.

 


End file.
